


Why Torchwood Banned Recreational Body-Swapping

by wyntereyez



Series: Talk to the Hand [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bodyswap, Crack, Gen, Gender Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntereyez/pseuds/wyntereyez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Body-swapping may sound like fun, but it can have disastrous consequences.  Especially when the Doctor and Rose are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose's Best Birthday Ever

One - Rose’s Best Birthday Ever

 

The unfamiliar angle of sunlight awakens Rose, who grumbles and attempts to roll over and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, the clingy octopus that is her half-human half-Time Lord boyfriend has her pinned in place, and by the time she wriggles free from his long, flexible limbs, she’s wide awake.

She considers poking the Doctor in his ticklish ribs until he wakes up, but decides against it. It’s not often that either of them get the opportunity to sleep in, and besides, she likes watching him sleep.

He’s lying on his stomach, face half buried in a pillow which displays evidence that he’d been gnawing on it during the night. His hair is sticking out at wild angles, and the night’s stubble is dark against his pale skin. Rose rather likes how it looks, though he bitterly complains about humans having to shave every single day.

He’s wearing only blue pyjama bottoms, and she gently traces the line of his long back with a fingertip, starting at the charming little mole between his shoulder blades and heading downward. He twitches, but doesn’t wake. She loves the feel of his skin; it’s as soft as Tony’s had been when he was newborn. He’s only a little over four months old, after all, and still so very, very new.

Her hand hesitates when she reaches the small of his back, where the skin is still angry red from his most recent experiment with human fashion: a tattoo.

He’d gotten the idea from her mum, during an incident which Rose wishes she could forget. The Doctor had seen Jackie’s tattoo and on the ride home from the award ceremony, he’d babbled about the pros and cons of getting one himself, rather than focusing on the momentous discovery that Rose had the uncontrollable ability to disintegrate clothing. Rose had irritably snapped at him that they’d talk about it later, with the intention of talking him out of it.

The Doctor had somehow interpreted that response as, “Oh, Doctor, you’d look so incredibly sexy with a tattoo! Get one tomorrow and surprise me!” Because that was exactly what he’d done. He’d come home late, a smug grin on his face, and when she‘d questioned him, the grin had only widened. And then he’d dropped his trousers and proudly shown her what he’d done.

He’d gotten a banana tramp stamp.

Rose hadn’t been able to stop herself; she’d laughed until she was in tears. With a wounded dignity worthy of a cat, he’d pulled up his trousers and mumbled about how _he_ liked it, and it wasn’t like she had to look at it.

He’d hidden himself in their room the rest of the day, and Rose had felt awful. And the feeling had only gotten worse when she’d finally dared enter the room and found him in the bathroom struggling to apply ointment to the tattoo. When she‘d tried to help, he’d shied away before she could touch him. 

She’d apologized profusely and taken the ointment away from him. He’d reluctantly permitted her to gently rub it into the irritated skin. He’d finally loosened up enough to arch into her caress, and things had gotten more intense from there. 

The tattoo is growing on her; it’s rather adorable, and very him. Plus, she applies the ointment several times a day, and she loves having the excuse to touch him so intimately so often. 

He finally begins to stir, reacting to her touch. He mumbles incoherently, his mouth as always the first part of him to start functioning. He opens his eyes and smiles crookedly. “Mornin’,” he slurs thickly. He blinks slowly, then pushes himself to his hands and knees and stretches like a cat. Rose resists the urge to ruffle his hair.

“Morning,” she grins. He sits up and yawns, his sleepy eyes never leaving her face.

“Coffee?” she asks. He gives her a dopey grin and nods. She’d savour the time in bed with him, except that he’s not too bright or coordinated before his morning coffee. It usually takes a cup before he acquires sentience. 

Besides, after the rather active night they’d had, she could really use a pick-me-up as well. Rose rolls out of bed and heads off to the kitchen. Behind her, she can hear the Doctor slowly slithering free of their sheets and then stumbling off to the loo. 

Rose passes through the living room, which still has a few boxes shoved into one corner. She wonders if they’ll have time to finally finish unpacking this weekend, or if they’ll be too busy. She really hopes it’s the latter.

They’d finally done it; they’d moved from the tiny flat Rose had occupied while waiting to find the Doctor’s universe, which had been little more than a place for Rose to sleep and store her few possessions. It had been far too small to be a home for an heiress who was finally accepting her place in society and an alien mad scientist who needed space to build things, blow things up, and occasionally get in touch with his feminine side.

So they’d found this place, a spacious three-bedroom, two bath flat that took up half the top floor of the complex. It’s expensive, but they make more than enough money to afford it. And it’s totally worth it. One bedroom has been set aside for she and the Doctor to use as a lab; one day, it will house the TARDIS once it’s old enough to no longer need Torchwood’s life support equipment. The other is a combination guest room/sanctuary for the Doctor, where he can go and experiment with clothing and cosmetics to his heart’s content.

Rose fixes two coffees and carries them back to the bedroom. Through the bathroom door, she can hear the shower running, and over the sound of the water comes the Doctor’s voice. He’s singing “I feel pretty” at the top of his lungs, and Rose giggles. _And he wonders why people think he’s gay,_ she thinks as she sets his coffee on the nightstand and takes a seat on the bed to wait for him.

After a few minutes, and a chorus of “I enjoy being a girl,” he shuts off the shower and comes out, drawn to the scent of coffee. He eyes the steaming mug for a moment, then pounces on it. He takes a few minutes to savour it before attempting coherent conversation. “So,” he says. “Morning. Very nice time of day, isn’t it? Very…” he frowns, still struggling with getting his brain in gear. He glances over to the sunlight slanting through the windows. “Bright.”

Rose giggles. It had been awhile since they’d had a real morning together. Usually, it’s still dark when they wake up, and don’t have time for more than a quick coffee and shower before they head off to their jobs. Being able to take their time waking up and then enjoy each other’s company is a pleasure. And it’s just the start to what promises to be a wonderful day, after a rather… _vigorous_ night.

This, Rose thinks, is going to be the best birthday she’s ever had. “It’s called ‘the sun,’” she says. “It rises around this time of day.”

“Ah.” He nods sagely. He takes another gulp of coffee, finishing it off and setting the mug aside. “Think I remember reading about that somewhere.” A sly smile crosses his face. “Soooo… how are you this morning?” He sounds very pleased with himself, and rightfully so; he’s in one of his frisky phases, and he’d spent the night making up for the dry spell they’d both barely survived. Plus, he’d proven what a good pupil he was, putting his still-new knowledge and limited experience to effective use. He’s definitely getting bolder, and more creative. Rose approves.

“Sore,” she admits. The Doctor preens at this proof of his prowess. “Must be from all that running I did at work yesterday,” she grins, unable to resist deflating his ego. His face falls. “Don’t worry,” she says, patting his shoulder. “Most of it is all your fault.”

He immediately perks up. “I have some new moves I want to try tonight,” he purrs, doing his best to sound seductive and instead sounding like he’d been gargling rocks.

“Oh? And where did you learn these new moves? The internet or Jack? Because I’m not sure I trust anything from either source.”

He suddenly seems to find his hands very interesting. “Um… well…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Jack.”

Rose suppresses a groan. Jack’s knowledge of sex comes from a century with no inhibitions and likely more than a little genetic manipulation to be flexible enough to handle some of the more… interesting moves. The last time they’d tried something Jack suggested - and she’s still not sure how that had even come up in conversation - she’d thrown her back out and been laid up for a week.

That one hadn’t been fun to explain to her mum and Pete.

“It won’t be like last time!” the Doctor says quickly. “Nothing that can’t be accomplished by two healthy human-ish beings,” he promises. “I made sure of that.”

This time, Rose doesn’t hide the groan. “You mean, you told Jack I got hurt while having sex and asked for something physically possible for both of us. Which means, you would‘ve had to share what we are capable of. In excruciating detail, knowing you. Probably with diagrams and a PowerPoint presentation.” She buries her face in her hands. “I’m happy you have more people to talk to these days, but why, why, _why_ do you have to discuss our sex life?”

His brow furrows. “We discuss it all the time,” he says, puzzled.

“With each other,” she says, exasperated.

“And women discuss it with friends all the time on the telly,” he continues, still sounding genuinely confused.

“You’re not - ” Rose begins, then gives up. He’ll never truly understand the differences between human men and women and how they socialise. “On telly,” she finishes, when he continues to stare at her blankly. “And Jack is not an audience who needs to know all the details of our private lives.”

He looks crestfallen, and she grabs his shoulder and gently squeezes it. “It’s just… he’s not our Jack, and I don’t feel comfortable with him knowing so much about us. Not yet, anyway.” Or ever, really, but she doesn’t tell him that. “I want to trust him, but he’s hiding a lot from us and I’d prefer he didn’t know anything he could use against us.”

“He doesn’t know anything beyond what sexual positions would lay you up,” the Doctor points out, his tone amused. “I’m not sure how he could use that against you. I’ve never told him anything _important_ , you know.”

“I know.” She hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty, just get him to stop talking about sex. Now she feels bad, but the Doctor has already gotten over it.

“I, on the other hand, am looking forward to the opportunity to use his knowledge and have you completely at my mercy,” the Doctor says, his voice dropping to a low growl. He pushes her back on the bed and she falls without protest. He immediately straddles her, hands on either side of her shoulders, and grins down at her. Rose’s heartbeat quickens in anticipation. “I know things that are guaranteed to leave you immobilized for a month.” She hopes he doesn’t meant that literally, because it sounds wild. She licks her lips in anticipation.

Rose’s mobile rings shrilly, abruptly shattering the mood. The Doctor sits back, glowering at the offending object. “I need to take that,” she says apologetically. It’s Torchwood’s dedicated ringtone, and they know she has the day off. If they’re calling, then the situation could be dire.

Or not. She listens with growing irritation as the situation is explained, and she when she hangs up, she flings the phone aside with a growl.

The Doctor, now sprawled out on the bed, raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Rose groans. “It’s work,” she says. “An extra-terrestrial ship crashed just outside London, and Pete wants me to oversee clean-up and deal with the survivor.”

“Why you? It’s your day off!” he protests.

Rose grimaces. “Because the ship belongs to a species I have experience with, and Pete thinks I can handle this quickly.” She wrinkles her nose distastefully. “He’s never dealt with Mergovians before - they don’t know the meaning of the word ‘quick.’”

“They’re like Vogons when it comes to paperwork,” the Doctor agrees. He snorts. “Bureaucrats.”

“Yeah,” Rose says as she stands and heads over to her closet. She’ll need business attire for this encounter.

The Doctor huffs out a breath, and looks resigned. “I have some work I could do at the office,” he says, “and Jack wanted to take me out to lunch - where we won’t talk about sex, I promise, though conversation’s going to be a bit dull now - so I’ll keep myself busy.” He grabs her wrist and pulls her close to him. “But make sure you’re home by four. I worked hard to plan your birthday all by myself, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” Rose promises. “I wouldn‘t miss it for the world!”

~oOo~

To the Doctor’s surprise, Rose had beaten him home. She’s lying on the sofa, eyes closed, hair fanning out around her face. She must have had a rough time, he muses, because her lips are curved into a scowl.

He knows a way to cheer her up. Pleased with himself, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers.

Instead of kissing him back, her eyes snap open and she begins thrashing around, managing to hit him in the jaw and make him yelp in surprise and pain.

“Oi! Stay away from me, you alien git!” Rose shrieks.

The Doctor reels back, stunned. “Rose?” he asks uncertainly as she scoots as far away from him as she can.

“I can’t believe you snogged me!” she yowls, wiping at her lips as if to rid them of germs.

The bedroom door suddenly opens, and the Doctor can only stare as the situation becomes even more surreal. Owen Harper? _In his flat?_ The Doctor thinks this over, and immediately comes to a conclusion.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Owen says frantically.

The Doctor glances between them, eyes widening. “You mean, you _haven’t_ switched bodies?”

Owen’s mouth gapes, and Rose smirks. “Well, it seems Boy Toy isn’t as dense as he seems after all.”

“How did you know?” Owen - or, rather, Rose-in-Owen, asked.

“Because there’s no other reason you would willingly allow Owen into our home,” the Doctor says reasonably.

Owen-in-Rose scowls. “We could be having an affair,” he points out sourly.

Rose-in-Owen snorts back her laughter, and the Doctor raises an eyebrow. 

“Not bloody likely,” Rose-in-Owen says. “Not even to save the species.”

Before Owen-in-Rose can protest, the Doctor says, “How did this happen? And why did you have to play with body-swapping tech tonight of all nights?” he says mournfully. “And most importantly, _why_ would you switch with _Owen?_ ”

“It’s not like we had a choice,” Owen-in-Rose snaps.

Rose-in-Owen rolls her eyes. “It was in the rubble of the crash we were investigating. Owen was called in because the pilot needed a medic, and Martha is out of town. We were shifting the debris off the pilot when… well, _that_ happened.” She points at her body, sitting demurely on the sofa. “We found the machine that switched us, but we can‘t use it yet. So I had to bring him home with me because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving him alone with my body.”

She seems rather calm about it, the Doctor notes. That’s reassuring. “But you can switch back, right?” His brow furrows. “And how did it happen? The Mergovians don’t have the means to body-swap. Way too much paperwork involved in a process like that.”

“Yes, we can switch back; the machine still functions - when it has enough power. And the pilot wasn’t Mergovian; I don’t know what she is. We think she either bought the craft from them, or stole it.”

The Doctor’s shoulders sag in relief. He’s not sure how he’d cope with Rose being permanently stuck as Owen. He doubts it would end well. “So why haven’t you used it to switch back? Did you bring it home? I could figure it out if you don‘t know how to work it.”

“That’s the tricky bit… the power required to switch us drained the battery. Torchwood has the means of recharging it, but… well, it could take some time.”

“How long?” the Doctor asks, dismayed. It looks like he’s not going to be able to use his new moves tonight, after all.

“Twenty-six hours, approximately,” Rose-in-Owen sighs.

“Twenty-six hours?” the Doctor squeaks. “But Rose… we have an entire evening planned! Dinner! Dancing! _Shagging!_ All those new moves I learned from Jack…” He’s starting to sound panicked, and probably more than a little petulant, but he can’t help himself. He’d been planning how to celebrate Rose’s birthday for _ages_ , it seems, and he’d done it entirely without the advice of Jackie or the internet.

“I don’t want to hear about this,” Owen-in-Rose growls. “I’m going to go take a shower.” Neither of them notice as he leaves the room.

“It could be months before we both get time off again,” the Doctor concludes weakly.

Rose-in-Owen sighs and sits on the sofa next to him. She’s about to put her arm around him, then seems to remember it’s not her arm and drops it to her side. “Believe me, this was the last thing I wanted to happen.” She shifts, obviously frustrated that she can’t have any intimate contact with him, not without it being incredibly awkward for the both of them. “And I mean that literally. I would’ve preferred the destruction of the Earth or flesh-dissolving slime over being in Owen Harper’s body.”

“We… we could still go, I suppose,” the Doctor suggests uncertainly. “I mean, you still enjoy eating, right? We can do dinner. And thanks to my stint as _The Star’_ s so-called expert on homosexual lifestyles, I know all the best clubs where two men can go dancing. It could still be fun.”

“Until the paparazzi see Rose Tyler’s paramour on a date with another man,” Rose-in-Owen points out. “Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Owen without supervision.”

“We’ll just… take Owen with us.” The Doctor forces a smile. “This is just a minor inconvenience. Not as difficult as being interrupted by an alien invasion. Or your mum.”

“Right.” Rose-in-Owen grits her teeth. “No problem.” She suddenly realises that someone is conspicuously absent. “Um… where is Owen, anyway?”

“Hmm? Oh, I think he said he needed a shower,” the Doctor says with a shrug.

“Shower? You mean, he’s alone with my body?” Rose-in-Owen sprints towards their bedroom. “Owen! Don’t you dare touch me!” she screams.

That’s around when the Doctor finally realises the evening might not exactly go so smoothly, after all.

~oOo~

Dinner goes about as well as can be expected. The host starts to protest that they’d reserved a table for two, not three, and that they didn’t have any free private tables for larger parties. Then he recognizes Vitex heiress Rose Tyler and ushers them to a larger, but still private, table.

“A guy could get used to this,” Owen says, face alight as he considers the possibilities. Rose hadn’t realised her face could look quite so skeevy. 

“Well, don’t,” Rose hisses. “This is for one night only, remember?” And she is not looking forward to that night; who knows what Owen will get up to with her body the moment she falls asleep? 

She is so making the Doctor stay up all night to watch him.

The first snag occurs when Owen immediately vetoes Rose’s first choice of entrée, her favourite dish at this restaurant and something she rarely indulges in, due to Owen having a nut allergy. Rose is disappointed, but she really doesn’t have much of a choice, unless she wants to spend the evening swollen up and in the hospital.

Then Owen adds to her annoyance by getting the dish for himself. She tries not to hold it against him - after all, this could be his only chance to indulge without fear of death - but she can’t help but feel a little resentful.

Fortunately, the Doctor can leave no silence unfilled, so awkward dinner conversation isn’t a problem. He seems completely unbothered by the body swap, and cheerfully converses with both Rose and Owen as if nothing were wrong. He entertains them with amusing anecdotes about some of his more interesting celebrity encounters, and even manages to make them laugh. Rose finds herself relaxing; Owen is on his best behaviour, and is even _charming_ at times.

Rose wonders if he got a little of her personality along with her body, or if Owen actually could be something other than an obnoxious prat.

Nah. Has to be her body’s influence.

Rose is taking a sip of wine and is therefore completely unprepared when the Doctor suddenly leans towards Owen and asks eagerly, with just a hint of wistfulness, “What’s it like? Being a woman, I mean?”

She barely manages not to spit out her drink in shock as Owen very seriously considers the question. She then grabs for her water glass, ready to throw the water in his face when he makes the inevitable lewd comment about her breasts.

Instead, Owen says thoughtfully, “It’s different. Not just the obvious,” he gestures at his chest, “but everything feels different.” He bites his lip, a gesture Rose notes looks rather cute on her and she decides to use it in the future when she needs to talk the Doctor into something.

“How?” the Doctor prods.

Rose frowns, wondering why the Doctor is more curious about Owen’s male-to-female adjustment than her own gender swap. As she thinks it over, she remembers all the times he’s worn make-up, or tried on her clothing, or how moody and effeminate he gets once a month.

Despite his insistence that he’s “all male,” he has a very prominent feminine side, and he’s very aware of the fact. He knows that there isn’t something quite right about him, that Donna’s contribution to his creation has left him wholly unique, and very, very confused. It shouldn’t surprise her that the Doctor is curious about being a woman; it’s part of what he is, and talking to another man who has to deal with a female perspective is probably good for him, and may even help him sort out his own gender confusion. Still, there’s something about his eagerness towards the subject that alarms her. She has the unsettling feeling that something is about to go very, very bad.

And it had, while she was lost in thought. Unsurprisingly in a conversation that includes Owen, the subject had turned to sex and the differences between male and female experiences - which Rose is going to make damned certain Owen never got to find out for himself, no matter how much he told her that it was for science.

The Doctor, with his usual lack of understanding of private subjects and how they shouldn’t ever be discussed in public, was now telling Owen - in detail - some of the things he and Rose had done that he’d like to try from the female perspective.

“You mean… _that’s_ why your body’s so sore?” Owen says to Rose, aghast. “Oh, that’s disgusting! Ugh!” Then he considers. “Good on you, though,” he tells the Doctor, who smiles smugly.

“Shoot me now, please,” Rose moans.

They ignore her and continue talking, and Rose buries her face in her hands.

~oOo~

It’s at the dance club that everything goes sour. The Doctor takes them to one of London’s most popular clubs, despite Rose’s uneasiness about appearing in public as a group. Even though it’s not uncommon for couples to bring a single friend along on a night out, she’s Rose Tyler, Vitex Heiress, and everything she does is blown wildly out of proportion by the gossip rags. Even the Doctor’s reassurance that _The Star_ is contractually obligated not to print stories involving one of its top writers, there are dozens of other mags that are more than willing to take up the slack.

Still, she’s determined not to let that ruin their evening. The Doctor takes them to a club with a very liberal atmosphere, and no one will look twice at the Doctor dancing with a man. They leave Owen at a table with a drink, after Rose admonishes him not to get her body drunk, and then the Doctor pulls Rose on the dance floor.

She feels awkward at first; this body is much taller than she’s used to, and is balanced differently. But the Doctor seems unconcerned, adapting easily to her unfamiliar shape and motions. He beams down at her, and Rose realises that he doesn’t care what she looks like; to him, she’s still his Rose, no matter what.

Not surprising for the member of a species that changes faces on a regular basis, but it still makes Rose’s heart flutter.

Is it any wonder she loves this man so much?

They do a slow dance, and Rose only remembers she’s not in her own body when she tries to lean into him and realises her head doesn’t fit properly under the Doctor’s chin. “Having fun?” the Doctor murmurs into her ear.

“Yeah,” Rose breathes. 

And that’s when she remembers Owen. She glances towards the table where he’d been sullenly sipping his drink, but it takes her a moment to find their table because it’s empty.

Oh, God… they’d lost track of Owen! _It’s all right_ , she tells herself. He’d probably gone to get another drink. Or maybe even do a bit of dancing. Nothing to worry about, right?

Who is she kidding? This is _Owen_. Frantically, Rose scans the busy club, wishing her body weren’t quite so short. Then the crowd before her suddenly parts, offering her a glimpse of the bar - and a very disturbing sight.

Owen is flirting with a big-chested blond in a skimpy purple dress. No, more than flirting; as she watches, he leans forward and kisses the strange woman, an open-mouthed kiss with lots of tongue.

Rose is going to have to disinfect her body once she gets it back.

“Doctor,” she hisses, grabbing his shoulder and turning him towards Owen. The Doctor makes an indignant yelp.

“I don’t like it when you’re strong enough to push me around,” he sulks.

“Look,” she hisses, taking a step forwards.

“What?” the Doctor asks blankly. Then he spots Owen and the blond. “Oh, nice technique!” he enthuses. “And her dress is gorgeous,” he continues. “You should get one like that.” _So I can try it on_ , he doesn’t add, but the implication is there.

Rose seethes inwardly. “Doctor,” she says through clenched teeth. “Owen is using _my body_ to snog some strange woman.

“And he’s doing very well, considering it’s his first day as a woman,” the Doctor says, studying the couple critically. “Rose? Why don’t you kiss me like that?” he asks enviously.

Rose reminds herself that this Doctor doesn’t regenerate, and that killing him would be a Bad Thing.

She grabs the Doctor’s hand and saunters up to Owen and the blond, trailing the Doctor behind her. She still has a death grip on his hand as she comes up behind Owen, her gaze thunderous. She’s channeling all her Tyler rage, which she knows is an awesome force capable of cowing an the Doctor. Owen doesn’t have a chance.

She grabs Owen’s shoulder and spins him around to face her. Owen’s faces pales as he realises the trouble he’s in, and he cringes. The strange woman eyes them speculatively, and she smiles seductively.

She opens her mouth, ready to lay into Owen, when the Doctor touches her shoulder. “Um, Rose? There’s - ” he says urgently, but his warning comes too late. A light flashes, blinding her. 

“Bloody hell!” Owen shouts, reeling back and rubbing his eyes. “Who the f - ” He looks ready to jump to his feet and start a fight, the male bravado looking very comical in Rose’s body.

Lovely. Rose hadn’t realized she looks about as threatening as an indignant chipmunk when she’s angry. But she doesn’t dwell on that, and whirls around to find the source of the flash, only to see a very familiar, very annoying figure vanishing into the crowd. He’s one of the banes of Rose’s existence, one of the vultures that hovers around the rich and famous, waiting to feed off their indiscretions.

_Oh, hell…_ the paparazzi had found them.

Rose tries to run after the photographer, but the crowd is tightly grouped now, and she can’t get through.

The Doctor is still attached to her hand, and he’s squirming around in an attempt to escape her ever-tightening grip. “It’s all right, Rose,” he says, voice tight with pain as he continues to try to free himself. “It’s just a photo; it doesn’t mean anything.”

Right. It’s not like their dates hadn’t been photographed before, yeah? Except…

And then it hits Rose, just what that picture is going to show: Rose Tyler with her arm around some strange woman, while the man known to be her boyfriend watches, his hand gripped tightly in another man’s.

Tomorrow morning, every gossip rag in Britain is going to be running articles about Rose Tyler and her outrageous lifestyle. And Rose is going to have to explain it to her mum.

“Worst. Birthday. Ever,” Rose groans.

~tbc~


	2. The Doctor's Brilliant Idea

Two - The Doctor’s Brilliant Idea

 

Despite the impending scandal, and the unfamiliarity of Owen’s body, Rose actually manages to get a good night’s sleep. Alone, of course; she’d made the Doctor promise to watch Owen and make sure he didn’t take advantage of his access to Rose’s body. The Doctor hadn’t been thrilled by the all night vigil he’d been volunteered for, and Rose wonders if he’d managed to make it through the night without drugging Owen into unconsciousness. It’s what she would do, if she had to put up with his lewd personality in her beloved’s body.

Still, she hopes not. The only drugs they have around that are strong enough make her groggy and nauseous, and she’s not looking forward to something like that when she finally regains her body in - she glances at the time - eight hours.

She skips her usual morning shower, even though she now knows Owen’s body far better than any woman in her right mind would ever want to, and heads straight to the living room to see how the Doctor and Owen survived the night.

The answer to the question is less damaging, chemically speaking, than she had feared, but it doesn’t do her psyche a whole lot of good. She decides it’s best not to ask where the Doctor got a hold of the fuzzy pink pairs of handcuffs locked around Owen’s wrists and ankles. Owen is seated on the recliner, glaring sullenly at the Doctor, who is sprawled across the sofa, deeply asleep.

“Have a nice night?” Rose asks sweetly

Owen scowls. “He talks in his sleep,” he snaps, jerking his head towards the Doctor. “Incessantly. And I couldn’t get comfortable with these,” he holds up his manacled wrist. Then he shrugs and grins. “No matter; you’ll be the one who feels it later.”

Rose’s eyes narrow. “Remind me to take some laxatives before we switch back,” she says. Her face really is unattractive when she smirks like that, she realises uncomfortably. She resolves never to smirk again anywhere with decent lighting.

Ignoring Owen, Rose heads towards the Doctor and pokes his shoulder. He mumbles and turns away, burying his face in the cushions. She continues poking him in the same spot until he growls and jerks his head towards her. Brown eyes blink in confusion, then his face falls. “It wasn’t a dream,” he sighs.

“Nope. It’s a _nightmare_ ,” she says with feeling. The Doctor rubs his eyes and heaves himself into a sitting position. “I’ll start the coffee,” she adds, when the Doctor continues to sit and blink as his sluggish mind struggles to catch up with his body.

“Mmm,” he responds thickly.

She really hopes aliens don’t ever invade in the morning, because they could completely take over the planet in the time it takes for the Doctor to become a functioning member of society.

Rose heads off to the kitchen and quickly makes up two cups, then makes up a third when she remembers that Owen has her body and her addiction, and therefore will probably have her tendency to become a raving beast without it. She sets his cup on the side table for when the Doctor frees him, then shoves another mug into the Doctor’s hands. He begins to greedily gulp it down. Owen eyes his warily, then looks at the Doctor, then his manacled hands, then back at the mug. The Doctor doesn’t get the hint.

She takes a sip… then nearly spits it back out. She’s never had such a revolting cup of coffee before! What the hell is wrong with Owen’s taste buds?!

“You should probably have tea,” Owen says, lips twisting into another nasty grin. “Coffee and I don’t really agree with each other.”

She stares mournfully at the cup, feeling rather betrayed by her beloved pick-me-up. _Stupid Owen taste buds,_ she thinks bitterly. What kind of person can’t drink coffee? Now she’s going to have to face the day without her caffeine fix. She’s afraid that people may die.

She hopes that, since it’s Owen’s body, she won’t suffer from the physical effects of caffeine withdrawal, but she somehow doubts she’s going to dodge the psychological component, since, as far as her brain in concerned, she _needs_ it to live. Damn. 

For the next few minutes there’s silence, except for the Doctor’s enthusiastic slurping, which is going to drive her mad. Owen just glares balefully, still bound and clearly not pleased that the Doctor still seems unable to get the hint.

Finally, Rose decides the silence has dragged on long enough, and asks the question weighing most heavily on her mind. “Has Mum called?” Rose asks.

“No,” the Doctor says, sounding more than a little worried. “Maybe she hasn’t read the papers yet?” he continues hopefully.

Doubtful. Her mum reads the tabloids as part of her breakfast routine. She would have known before even finishing her first cup of coffee. Huh… It’s not like her mum not to jump on this. Maybe she’s mellowing in her old age…

There’s an insistent knock on the door, and everyone freezes.

“Please tell me you ordered a pizza,” Rose whispers. Because the alternative is too horrible to contemplate.

The Doctor stares at her in confusion as he heads towards the door. “It’s seven in the morning,” he says, baffled. “If you’re hungry, I think we still have some pizza from Friday.” He just turns the knob and the door explodes inward, yelping in surprise as a furious Jackie Tyler shoves past him and knocks him into the wall.

Jackie opens her mouth in preparation for what will probably be a truly epic tirade involving the paper she’s clutching in one hand, when she catches sight of the still handcuffed Owen-in-Rose.

Wow. Rose doesn’t remember ever seeing her mum shocked into silence before. But she’s certain this is not a good thing, and that the explosion certain to follow will be the most epic thing Rose has ever seen. Jackie whirls towards the Doctor, who is still pressed firmly against the wall, as though hoping if he pushes hard enough, he can pass through it.

“Jackie,” he says, his voice pitched high with panic. “This really isn’t what it looks like!”

“I knew you were a little off,” Jackie says in this frightfully calm voice that is far more terrifying than her screaming, “but this… To find out about your kinky alien sex games in a gossip rag!” She holds up a crumpled wad of papers that had previously been a magazine. “I didn’t want to believe it - thought maybe you were just drunk or somethin’ - but this… and with Owen Harper! Owen!” It’s this last that she seems to be the source of Jackie’s rage, if the sudden raising of her voice is any indication.

“Oi! What’s wrong with m- with Owen?” Owen protests.

“Did you always have orgies in the TARDIS? I met your ‘friends,’ remember? All those pretty women and that beautiful Captain Harkness…” With a soft sigh, Jackie trails off, eyes slightly glazed, and Rose really doesn’t want to know where her mum’s mind is right now. But then she shakes it off. “And now you’ve dragged my darling Rose into your lifestyle - in public! With Owen!” She smooths out the paper and shows them the photo of Owen-in-Rose kissing the random girl at the club, the Doctor and Rose-in-Owen holding hands and looking on in horrified fascination.

“If you’re going to be like that, at least have some taste and invite Captain Harkness!” Again there’s that breathy sigh, and Rose rolls her eyes. Somehow, she’s not surprised that her mother isn’t mad about Rose possibly having a three- or more-some, but that any imagined orgies include Owen.

Rose is starting to feel rather sorry for Owen. 

The Doctor looks thoroughly cowed. “Jackie, it’s not like that. Believe me, there was no sex involved. Owen Harper is the greatest deterrent to sex, _ever._ ”

“Oi!” Owen shrieks again.

“There is nothing kinky going on here. I’m still new; I barely know the basics. I’d have to work at being kinky!” He cocks his head, considering. “Although I do like licking the edible body paint off Rose. And there was that time with Rose and the Santa beard - ” 

“Not helping, Doctor,” Rose hisses.

“The point is,” the Doctor says hurriedly, “this isn’t what it looks like. We just went out for Rose’s birthday… it was a one time thing, and beyond that kiss, nothing else happened!”

“Then why is Rose handcuffed to a chair?” Jackie demands.

“Because he’s a complete prat who was trying to feel me up!” Rose says indignantly.

Finally, Jackie takes her attention away from the Doctor, and Rose quails under the full force of Jackie‘s glare. Wow, her Mum _is_ scarier than a Dalek… “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter that way!” Jackie snarls, completely missing Rose’s use of the masculine pronoun, and before Rose can react, Jackie’s palm collides with her cheek and Rose staggers backward, stunned. She imagines this is what being hit by a lorry feels like, just concentrated into a tiny surface area. 

Oh… _ow…._

Rose is rubbing the side of her face, eyes huge as she stares at her mum. “That hurt…” she says numbly. She’d always thought it was funny that her tiny mum could intimidate a man who’d faced incredible danger and saved the universe on a daily basis, but now she understands why the Doctor lives in fear of the Tyler Slap. “That really hurt,” Rose says again.

“I’m just getting warmed up,” Jackie hisses, drawing her hand back for another.

“Jackie, wait!” The Doctor steps between them, flinching in anticipation of the oncoming slap. “This is Rose!”

“What do you mean, that’s Rose?” Jackie demands. To Rose’s surprise, she lowers her hand. Then again, Jackie had been subjected to so much strangeness since the Doctor entered their lives that it shouldn’t be surprising she’d be willing to listen to something so preposterous.

“Yesterday, Rose was called - by _Pete,_ might I add, so if you want someone to blame - er, right…. She was called in to handle a crashed spacecraft and… well…” the Doctor hesitates, wondering how to tactfully explain it to Jackie.

“And now I’m her and she’s me,” Owen says. “For about eight more hours, anyway.”

“What did you do to my daughter?” Jackie howls, poking the Doctor’s chest with the rolled-up paper. The Doctor backs away, eyes wide.

“You slapped me,” Rose says faintly, oblivious to the drama unfolding around her.

“Me? Didn’t you hear what I said? Pete? Crashed spacecraft? Why do you always - no, never mind, you’ll never stop blaming the alien, will you?” he asks in exasperation. 

“ _Slapped_ me,” Rose says again.

“See?” the Doctor says triumphantly. “I told you those slaps were dangerous! I think you broke Rose!”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!” Jackie says, and looks like she’s about to give her daughter a hug before pulling up short. “No… I’m sorry, I know you’re Rose, but I just can’t hug _him_.”

“S’okay,” Rose mumbles. “I don’t want to touch me, either.”

“And you,” Jackie roars, whirling on the still-bound Owen. “If I find out you touched my daughter’s body - ”

Owen tries to bury himself into the chair. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbles. “Like my bits where they are, thanks.”

“I’d be doing the world a service,” Jackie snaps.

“Don’t much like Owen, do you?” Rose asks, impressed by her mother‘s burning hatred. She resolves to quiz her mum later on just how she manages to keep Owen cowed.

“There was an incident with a vaccination Owen created which had unforeseen side effects,” Jackie says. “Basically, it turned Pete’s bits green and spiny for a week and we had to get a little creative.”

“Ew, Mum!” Rose cries, at the same time the Doctor mumbles, “Really didn’t need that image, thanks.”

~oOo~

Incredibly, the switch back goes smoothly. One moment, Rose is tall and sullen, and the next, she’s readjusting to her former height and center of gravity. She never thought she’d be so happy to have breasts again.

The Doctor launches himself at her and pulls her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and twirling around. “You’re much more cuddly like this,” he grins. Clearly, he’s happy she has breasts again, too.

She’s relieved that it’s over with. She plans to never, ever think about body-swapping again.

She manages to keep that resolution until that evening.

Rose is sitting on the sofa with her laptop, wading through the paperwork that accompanies accidental body-swapping, when the Doctor rushes into the room, eyes wide and hair standing up in excited spikes. Uh-oh… She saves her progress and shuts her laptop, knowing that what’s about to happen is likely to keep her away from her work for the rest of the night.

“Rose!” he cries, eyes bright with excitement, “I‘ve decided… I’m going to do a body-swap of my own. Torchwood doesn’t have any regulations against it, and the machine will be ready for use again tomorrow evening.” He beams. “I don’t have any interviews scheduled for Tuesday and I won’t be needed at the _Star_ , so…” He takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “I’m going to be Donna for a day!”

“You… what? What?” Rose squeaks. “What?!”

“Isn’t that brilliant?” he beams. “I’m already part her, anyway, and I’ve always wondered what it was like to be… well, _right._ ”

“And she _agreed_ to this?” Rose asks faintly.

“Well…” The Doctor runs his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t asked her yet,” he admits.

“Let me know when you’re going to; I want to see her reaction,” Rose says dryly. “I may even feel generous enough to stop her from killing you.”

His face falls. “She’d never agree to it, would she?” he says sadly.

He’s so crestfallen that Rose bites back her reflexive sarcastic response. “I doubt it,” she says. “Why would you want to be Donna, anyway?” she wonders. “I mean, Donna’s wonderful, and all, but I prefer you to be… well, _you._ ”

“I just… I want to see what it feels like to be right,” he slumps into the recliner, his gaze downcast.

“What did you mean, you want to be ‘right?’” Rose asks. “You’re _always_ right, as you like to remind me, even when it takes you awhile to get there. You make being right an art form.”

He stares at her blankly for a moment, puzzled. Then he gets it. “Oh, not ‘right’ as in ‘correct,’ I mean… Right. Not Wrong. Not a freak,” he says quietly. “This body was constructed when two very different sources that aren’t entirely compatible were forced together. I’m like Frankenstein’s monster. I’m _Wrong._ ” She can hear his frustration at his inability to express the concept, but she’s too shocked to pay much notice. He really feels like that? Like an abomination?

Is that the real reason his Time Lord self had left him in this universe? Because he couldn’t stand being close to this distorted version of himself?

“Plus,” he says, mood once again swinging back to its previous enthusiasm, “I’d be able to wear a dress! A silky one; _love_ the feel of silk against my skin,” he sighs happily.

Rose pulls him into her arms and holds him close. He seems startled, and fidgets a bit before wrapping his arms around her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she whispers.

“That I love silk? Not a big surprise, surely? New skin, still sensitive, and all these fabrics men seem to favour are _scratchy_ \- ”

“That you’re Wrong,” she says.

“Ah,” is all he says. He’s silent for a long moment, then says finally, “I don’t know enough about being a human to know what’s normal for a human body. If I could just be completely human for awhile - preferably female, since I seem stuck with the hormones - I can figure out what is normal for me to be feeling, and what’s a product of my genetics gone wrong.” He ruffles his hair in frustration. “If I knew, I might be able to figure out what my problems are and how I can correct them. Or at least ease them.”

She’d never even thought about that. She’d known there were differences - they were rather hard to not notice, after all - but she’d never thought about the consequences his unique birth would have on him, physically. “Tell you what,” she whispers. “I’ll swap with you.”

The Doctor pushes her away so he can better see her face. “Really?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “You’d do that for me?”

She nods. She’s surprised herself by just how serious she is about this; she hadn’t thought she’d want to be a man again, but she’d gladly do it for the Doctor. “Yeah. I’d rather be you than Owen any day, and it might give me a new perspective on you.”

He’s beaming now, that infectious grin that makes her smile as well. “I’m warning you; it’s hard to be me. Clever, handsome, brave… modest… it’s quite a burden.”

“Tell me about it. I have to _live_ with you, remember?” she teases. “ _Being_ you should be easy.”

He pouts, lower lip outthrust, and she gives in to the urge to kiss it. “Now, Rose, being a man is very different from being a woman. We’re very complex creatures, you know. It takes more than a day to figure out the ins and outs of being one of us.”

“I already mastered peeing standing up while I was Owen. What else do I need to know?”

The Doctor thinks on this for a long moment, then shrugs. “That’s about it, actually.”

“Complex creatures, indeed,” Rose laughs. “Just wait until you try being a woman and all the emotional baggage that goes with it.” Although, with his problematic hormones, he gets most of that emotional baggage anyway, so this won’t be that big a change for him. 

He launches into a ramble about which of her outfits he’s going to wear first, and Rose rolls her eyes. “You do know it’s just for the day, right? I need to be me again by Thursday - Mum has that birthday dinner planned for me, remember?”

“Twenty-six hours,” the Doctor nods solemnly. “Twenty-six _brilliant_ hours!”

“Oh, and Doctor? Don’t you _dare_ ask if any of my outfits make your bum look big,” she scowls, hands planted firmly on hips. “You’ll give me a complex.”

His brow furrows. “But I ask you that all the time! Why would this be any different?”

True. He’s more paranoid about his bum than any woman Rose has met, though she suspects he asks because he likes her reassurance that it’s a very nice bum, which is usually followed by a more physical demonstration of how much she likes said bum.

“Besides,” the Doctor continues, “I already know your bum looks lovely in all your outfits, so why would I even need to ask?”

He really makes it impossible to be angry with him. Bastard.

This is going to be… interesting, Rose thinks. A learning experience, certainly. And it’s just one day… if she can survive a day as Owen, a man who makes her hackles rise and skin crawl, then living a day as the man she loves should be easy.

~oOo~

There’s actually paperwork for recreational body-swapping. Not the generic ‘personal use of safe alien tech’ forms that one would normally have to fill out, but actual forms created years ago for the purpose of intentional body-swaps.

Hundreds of them.

Printed out, they’re the size of a thick book. The Doctor stares at them in dismay, prods the unyielding stack with a finger tip, then backs away. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Rose growls. “You’re the one who wants to do this. You’re going to take responsibility for this.” She shoves the pile of forms towards him, and he gives her a sad-puppy look. When that doesn’t work, his shoulders slump and he begins flipping through the papers at a far quicker rate than Rose or any human could manage. Sometimes she’s insanely jealous of his superior alien biology. Still, it takes him forty-five minutes to finish going through the forms. She’s not even half way done in that time, and he expresses his impatience by first twitching in his chair, moving on to drumming his fingers against the desk, and finally moving on to pacing around the room. Finally, Rose can’t take it any more and she flips through the rest of the paperwork, signing wherever there was a line without bothering to read the documents first. She manages to finish before the Doctor drives her to murder.

As soon as she pushes aside the massive tome and stands, the Doctor bounces over to her like an excited puppy and grabs her hand, pulling her towards the door before she even has the chance to catch her balance.

“Ready?” he squeaks, voice dangerously close to the audible-only-to-dogs pitch. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, feigning resignation. Though she won’t admit it, after spending a sleepless night thinking about the upcoming switch, she’s kind of looking forward to it. After all, how often does she get the chance to be an alien? It could be fun!

Rose manages to hold on to that thought delusion until the transfer actually happens. In the span of a heartbeat, she goes from gazing at the Doctor, who’s giving her that broad, manic grin she loves so much, to being tall, skinny as a broom, and in excruciating pain. She cries out and doubles over, hands to her temples and eyes squeezed shut to ward off the assault on her senses. The world is blurry and out of sync, and even with her eyes closed, she can see still see everything around her, like it’s been burned into her retinas. It’s as if she can see the past, present, and future all at once - she can see herself and the Doctor walking in, at the same time she sees herself and the Doctor touching the body-swapping device, and she can see the Doctor’s lanky body curled up on the floor in pain, and techs swarming around something emitting oily black smoke… And the skin of her body feels like a raw nerve ending, the slightest brush of cloth against it making her flesh shudder. 

Then she feels a gentle touch at her temples, and it’s as if a veil is draped over her mind. She can think clearly again, and when she opens her eyes, the world is mostly in focus.

“Sorry,” the Doctor murmurs softly. “I should have warned you. I’m just so used to that by now that I didn’t even think about how it would affect you.”

“What was that? And what did you do?” Rose croaks.

“Those are my temporal senses, which are a bit buggered, thanks to the human in me. I‘d hoped they‘d transfer along with my mind, but they‘re too much part of my biology, so they remained with you.” He frowns, a look he manages to make rather attractive on her features. She wonders if he‘d practiced it. “Fortunately, my telepathic abilities are with me, and I was able to put up a wall in your mind so they wouldn’t be so overwhelming.”

“Is it always that bad?” The thought that the Doctor is always in such pain is horrifying. 

He shrugs. “Some days,” he admits. “Mostly when my hormones are acting up; they affect my control. Usually I can keep up a wall like the one I built for you.” 

“And… the clothing… is that always how it feels for you?” she demands, appalled. 

“That’s why I like silks,” he says softly.

“When this is over, we’re going shopping and buying you the softest outfits we can find,” Rose vows. The Doctor beams. “So,” Rose continues thoughtfully, “is that how you always see things? Everything, all at once?”

The Doctor shakes his head. “Not always, no. It’s sort of random. A full Time Lord could, though we’re trained to control it so we don’t see every possible timeline all at once. I no longer have that level of control, but I also don’t have temporal senses as strong as I used to, so it evens out. I just get random impressions. I’m used to ignoring them.”

That’s a relief. Rose can’t imagine what it would be like to have that curse, 24/7. And then what she saw sinks in - the shouting, the smoke…

“Wait… Doctor, I saw - ”

“The machine!” someone cries out. Suddenly there’s a flurry of activity as the techs rush forward, where the alien device is smoking, the casing bubbling up and oozing like wax. Oily smoke billows upward, and the techs rush to contain the damage. Rose and the Doctor can only watch in horror as they struggle to save the machine.

In the end, they’re mostly successful. The machine is mostly intact, but the battery has melted into an acidic green goo that is eating through the counter. The Doctor and Rose can only stare as the lab techs frantically work to stop the leakage before it can burn through the floor.

“Oh, hell,” Rose groans.

“Oops,” the Doctor says weakly. “Guess we should have checked the battery life before doing this, huh?”

“Now what are we going to do?” Rose turns to the Doctor, and is momentarily disoriented by the fact that she has to look down to see him in her short body. “I don’t want to be stuck as you for the rest of my life. I mean, I like your body and all - well, love it, actually - but I prefer it from an outside perspective.”

The Doctor is examining the machine, all the while absently groping his sides for pockets and brainy specs that are not there. “It’s not badly damaged,” he says at last. “Nothing I couldn’t repair with the tech on hand. It’s the battery that’s the real problem.”

“We can get a replacement battery through one of our extra-terrestrial contacts,” one of the techs says, looking up from the melted wreckage of the lab table. Despite his reassurance, he won’t meet her eyes. _Crap…_

“And how long will that take?” Rose demands.

“Could just be days. Or… it could take weeks.” The tech scurries away before Rose can react.

“Weeks?” Rose screams, and surprises herself with just how high the Doctor’s voice can really get. The Doctor looks startled by this as well, and a little dismayed. “We can’t live like this for weeks! We have lives!”

The Doctor rests one delicate hand on her forearm. “It won’t be that long, Rose,” he says calmly. “Pete will be able to persuade his contacts to make it a rush order. And even if that takes too long, I can probably whip up something to power the device. It may take some time, but it won’t be more than a week, I promise. So, please quit yelling and making me sound like a girl?” he pleads.

Rose immediately calms. He’s right, of course; the Doctor is brilliant after all, and he’s built more complex devices in a much shorter time. Still, it’s not something that’s going to happen in the next few hours (she did, after all, promise the Doctor a day in her body and she may as well let him have that) so there is one tiny little matter which needs to be taken care of, and tells him so.

“What’s that?” the Doctor says uneasily.

“You’re going to be the one who explains this to Mum.”

 

~tbc~


End file.
